It was the Sunday before “the big change.”
After years of working at an office job she hated, my Julie was going to back to school full time to finish her master’s degree.
The shift to a “one income household” really wasn’t that much of a big deal. We didn’t have kids and I was doing well, plus she had been saving up for years.
In dreams. It was in dreams that I heard the command to awaken. It must have been, since when my eyes did open, I was alone.
In the dark of my bedchamber I rose and felt immediately assaulted by the chill of the winter night. The fire had grown low and only a small red glow of embers lit one corner of my room.
I knew from the fire’s waning and the pitch black outside the window it was still the small hours, not yet near dawn but well past the witching hour.
10/3 As per your instructions, I laid down after work, before I had dinner. As I said in my texts, my sex drive has just been pretty low since the summer ended. Still I did what you said. I read the story you sent me. It felt nice to not think about it and just follow the list of rules you gave me.
I did things slowly. I admit, there was something comforting in knowing I wasn’t going to come. I could just sort of linger and touch all the different parts of my body. There was something almost meditative about it.
After I read your story I closed my eyes and pictured the last time I went over your apartment. I pictured your hands on my body, on my throat. I certainly felt something, though it was dull. Like my body out of practice.
I have a story in a new anthology! My spanking tale Giving Spanks is the first story in the Spanksgiving anthology, edited by Lori Perkins. Get it at Riverdale Avenue Books.
Thanksgiving…the sexiest time of the year..NOT!
Thanksgiving needs a marketing do-over. It should be the sexiest time of the year when you consider that we get four full days off from work, too much good food and drink, football, left-overs, binge-watching, and the intoxicating rush of shopping, either in the flesh or online, for presents for others and yourself. And maybe even a trip back home to rekindle old flames.
Note: This is a preview of a longer story. It is 5200 words in length and is a little sad, pretty racy and has a happy ending. You can get the whole thing for $1 here.
The message came while Leah was in a production meeting. She glanced at her watch and saw the truncated text message routed from her phone.
“Delivered today: ServiceBot R2900.GirlfriendMateria…”
She was okay with being naked. She didn’t mind walking past my open windows or if I snapped a picture of her every once in awhile. I liked that. I liked how much she enjoyed her body, lounging and showing off her curves without a hint of the embarrassment that is drilled into women. But the pigtails made her mortified.
It was funny how she tried to talk me out of them, explaining how sexy she looked with her hair down or up or this way or that.
“You said I could have you any way I wanted,” I started seriously, though I was holding a pair of rabbit ears.
It started in such a simple and silly way. A bunch of us were out, in a crowded bar, huddled in small groups so we could hear each other, and the topic of grooming came up.
Kimberly tended to be the quiet one in our group and because of that I always tended to gravitate to her, to try and include her in conversations, to try and pull her out of her shell. Plus she was adorable, with a round cherubic face, large expressive eyes, big cupid bow lips, and the habit of covering her mouth when she laughed.
She was always made up so well, beautiful clothes, hair perfect, makeup on point. I asked how long it took to get ready before going out and she said sometimes hours.
In the still of a lonely Tuesday afternoon nap, Samantha felt a strange pressure under the covers next to her. A small sudden movement.
It wasn’t her cat. Bartleby was sitting on the windowsill near the radiator, his glossy black coat looking perfect after his hours of grooming.
In the liminal space between sleeping and waking she felt it again, ghost fingers on her bare hip.
When he spanks her she pushes her face into his lap to hide her blushing cheeks. She covers her mouth to muffle her whimpers and moans. But when he parts her legs there is nothing she can do to hide her wetness. As much as she tries, her body can’t keep secrets from him.
And even though she knows it is all part of their game, his quiet chuckle is mortifying.
Which only makes it worse.